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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666256">Direct Current</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_case_for_wonder/pseuds/a_case_for_wonder'>a_case_for_wonder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Royai Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Ishbal | Ishval, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Promised Day, Royai Week 2020, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_case_for_wonder/pseuds/a_case_for_wonder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They've come to start rebuilding Ishval. Roy and Riza have been holding themselves back for years while they put the country first. But what does it really mean to move forward? What if this time, they didn't let the spark die? </p><p>Royai week 2020: Crackle</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Royai Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Direct Current</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This prompt got away from me a bit, but hey. Have my very first smut fic. I'm reasonably proud of it. </p><p>Warning for suicide ideation (past)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Ishval Command Outreach Center is not a sight to behold, but standing before it Roy feels his heart swell with anticipation nonetheless. It’s been designed in a way that rides the line between temporary and permanent, a nervous bride-to-be trying on her wedding ring in the mirror, still not certain she won’t run from the altar. Or in this case, be chased from it with drawn weapons, and deservedly so. The shallow U-shaped building is divided into three simple parts: the larger central section holds public meeting rooms, group and individual; the eastern wing is non-public offices; the western wing is their modest dormitory and a tiny mess. Cinder block walls divide simple, spartan rooms with plywood floors that will undoubtedly be perpetually dusted with sand. </p><p>Roy finds himself unreasonably cheered by the sight of it. “Well, team,” he addresses the small group of men and women - about a dozen in total in addition to his core team - assembled behind him. “Welcome home. Get your things settled tonight, we start first thing tomorrow.” He strides forward, ignoring the chorus of good-natured groaning from behind his back. They have a lot of work to do. </p><p>His cheer falters just slightly when they step into their dorms. The rooms are… sufficient, but sparse. Where the exterior and public facing walls have been whitewashed, these have been left their ordinary drab grey. He can cross the room in six paces, which is larger than what most of the men have, but still small when it’s the only space he’ll have to call his own. A narrow bed is tucked in one corner beside a chest of drawers, and a simple desk and chair sit beneath the solitary window. Despite himself, he knows he’s going to miss his place in Central City, which he’d only just begun feeling like was really home. </p><p>There’s a knock on the door. He opens it to find Hawkeye, dressed down to a t-shirt and casual pants, hair wet from a shower, already looking more at home than he feels. The hallway is dark and quiet, and there’s that old familiar pang in his chest. “Can I help you, Captain?” </p><p>“Just seeing how you’re settling in, sir,” she says. </p><p>“I can see you have,” he smiles, eyes teasing over her a bit too obviously, but even his practiced flirting comes out a little too honest, here. Her responding glare is half-hearted at best. </p><p>“I didn’t bring much,” she says. </p><p>The absent <em>sir </em>hangs off the end of her sentence too obviously. They stall out there, standing in the threshold of his room, an engine stuck between gears, stubborn and sparking. He should wish her good night. He should ask how the other men are doing. He wants to-</p><p>She clears her throat. “How are you finding your quarters, sir?” </p><p>“Oh. Quite sufficient.” He pauses, uncertain in a way he only ever seems to be when it comes to her. “Perhaps… you would like to inspect for yourself?” </p><p>She smiles, a little tense. “You know I prefer my own assessments, sir.” </p><p>“Of course.” </p><p>He steps back and allows her in, shutting the door softly behind her. For a moment, it seems she really is intent on inspecting the room. She paces the perimeter with her arms neatly behind her back, gaze scanning over the walls, the furniture. Her hair has soaked a wet patch through the back of her t-shirt, leaving it clinging to her shoulder blades. She pauses at the window, staring out over the desert in silence. </p><p>“Everything looks to be in order.” </p><p>He feels like he’s straining, though towards what he can’t be sure. “Yes. Not very homey yet, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”</p><p>“I’ll pick you a flower if I see one, sir.” </p><p>He laughs. “I’m afraid I don’t have any vases, Captain.”</p><p>More silence. The line of her shoulders is razor sharp. He could cut himself on it. He wants to. He <em>wants</em>.</p><p>“Hawkeye-”</p>
<hr/><p>Riza swallows. What possessed her to come here tonight, like this? What is she doing? They’ve been doing so <em>well, </em>since the Promised Day. They’d agreed it wasn’t time yet, that it would hurt too much to have to sneak around. And yet here she is, the first damn night in Ishval, concocting flimsy excuses to get into his room like they’re still teenagers in her father’s house.</p><p>“I apologize, General. I should let you get your rest,” she says to the window. </p><p>He doesn’t respond. She doesn’t move. She clenches her fists, frustrated. They are so good at pretending. Sometimes she worries if they carry on long enough, they’ll forget how not to. She should turn and leave, but she feels like a loose wire, stuck dangling in the machinations they’ve built around each other, the whole thing spitting and groaning as they try not to give in, or even as they try to. </p><p>Roy breaks first. “You don’t have to do this, Hawkeye.” </p><p>She wants to scream. She says “Do what?” </p><p>“Any of it,” he says. His voice sparks against the cinder block walls. “There isn’t a single thing you have to do right now. Not stay, not leave. Not be with me, not go back to bed, not be happy, not be unhappy. It’s your choice.” </p><p>She can’t look at him. She knows what his face will look like, that consideration that isn’t quite gentle, that steady regard. “Is it? Are we allowed that? After what we’ve done?” <em>To be happy, </em>she means, and knows she doesn’t have to say. </p><p>There are bare hands on her shoulders, thumbs brushing softly at the damp collar of her shirt. She watches the window half expecting lightning. She thinks he'll agree with her, or at most offer soothing reassurances that they’ll get there someday. <em>Someday,</em> she’s been telling herself for years. </p><p>Instead he says quietly, “I used to want to die.” </p><p>She doesn’t turn around. He’d let her know, if he wanted her to. She holds her breath, waits for his lead. </p><p>“While we were in Ishval, there were nights when I went to sleep praying to be attacked in my sleep. Shot in the back. Ambushed somewhere. Anything to take me out before I could do any more harm.” His words tear through her, but his hands remain gentle at her neck. She can feel the point of his chin where it hovers a hair’s breadth from the crown of her head, the static between them. </p><p>“Even after,” he continues, voice rough, “when I made my plan to take down Bradley, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I thought- just get to the top. Depower the military, reinstate democracy. Then I could die, like I deserved to.” </p><p>The last words scrape out of his throat like it’s filled with desert sand, and she can no longer wait. She turns in his arms, sliding her hands up to his shoulders, the two of them so close they’re practically sharing breath. She opens her mouth, then closes it. He isn’t teary, just dreadfully somber, and the worst part is she understands. All of it. Sometimes she thinks she left her will to live for herself in Ishval. Sometimes she wonders if it was before that. </p><p>She swallows heavily. “What changed?” she finally asks. </p><p>“I made the mistake of telling Chris.”</p>
<hr/><p>Roy almost smiles at the memory.<em> Drunk well past closing on the familiar bartop, Aunt Chris beside him in her ever present halo of smoke. He’d been injured on a recent mission, reckless in a way he can’t seem to kick, lately. </em></p><p>
  <em>“You’re going to get yourself killed out there,” Aunt Chris tells him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She sounds wearier than she ever has, to him. Like she already knows what he’s thinking even before he slurs “It’s what I would deserve.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She sighs, pulling his glass from his numb fingers and draining it herself. “None of us deserve much, Roy-Boy. Get over yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I do.” He struggles up, looking her earnestly in the face. “I deserve to be put to death. That would be justice.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She gives him a long, steady look over her cigarette. “Perhaps,” she says at last, and he starts to collapse back toward the bartop- “for the dead.” He stops, stares. “But what about for the living?” </em>
</p><p>“We can’t ever make up for what we’ve done,” Roy tells Hawkeye, now. “but we made a promise to help restore Ishval. For those that live. And against all odds, they seem willing to accept our help. What good are we to them dead?” </p><p>He takes a breath, draws her against his chest. They’re both trembling. “Maybe atonement is bullshit. What we did is too big for it. We’ll never be done. But we are working to restore what good we can every day of our lives. I think, as long as we’re doing that…” He draws back, strokes her face, “I love you. I think it’s alright if we have a little bit of happiness.” </p>
<hr/><p>Riza stares, and stares, and stares. She believes in him in everything else, but in this...she doesn’t know if she can, yet. But then his hand brushes over the side of her neck, and the faulty, sparking thing between them roars into a bright, crackling line. Her hands wrap around the sides of his face, drawing it down to hers. The back of his neck is damp with sweat. His eyes are as dark and bright as the desert sky. </p><p>“We shouldn’t,” she says in the sparking space between their lips, because she has to. Because they've had so many false starts, almosts, missed connections, and if this isn't going to work she isn't sure she wants to know.</p><p>“We don’t have to,” he says. “Your choice, Riza.” </p><p>She kisses him, and it's direct current.</p>
<hr/><p>Against the drab background of his dormitory, she’s a live wire. Roy's hands slide to her lower back, pull her closer as her body arches up toward his. Her front presses against his from thigh to chest, a line of searing heat that sweeps through his body like a wave. Her hands are tight around his jaw, like she’s fighting herself between pulling him closer and pushing him away. Then he licks at the plush pad of her lower lip, and her mouth opens on a soft gasp, her tongue darting into his mouth in turn and there, <em>there. </em></p><p>Roy groans softly, cradling her. It’s not their first kiss, wouldn’t even be their first time falling into bed together, but there’s something different this time. Something cracking open between them, inevitable as a summer storm. He’s already half-hard in his pants, but he holds himself back until her hands move over his chest to start at his buttons. Then he wastes no time tugging up the hem of her shirt, slipping his hands beneath, groaning again at the heady feeling of hot, smooth skin beneath his palms. </p><p>Her mouth slips down to his neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin below his jaw, making his hands clench on her ribs. She laughs, finally freeing his shirt and helping him push it off his shoulders, and the vibrations against his throat go straight to his cock. He retaliates by drawing back, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it- somewhere. Her bra follows. Then she’s pressed against him again and it’s delirious how good it feels, her breasts against the skin of his bare chest. </p><p>“Riza,” he murmurs into her hair, then begins to kiss his own way down her throat, aiming for his favorite little spot in the dip of her collarbone. </p><p>“Mm,” she agrees. Then tugs at him by the belt. “Bed.” He doesn't have to be asked twice.</p>
<hr/><p>Riza strips efficiently out of her own pants and underwear, too impatient now for his inevitable teasing. They collapse onto the single bed together, a tangle of limbs that resolve themselves into Roy arched over her, his hands sweeping down her body like a storm front, skimming over smooth skin and well-known scars with equal reverence. He leans down, takes one nipple in his mouth and bites gently; her thighs squirm of their own accord, and he uses the movement to slide his hands between them, pressing her open with wide, warm palms. His thumbs dig into the join of her hips, and her breath leaves her on a low moan. </p><p>He’s grinning against her skin, and she would tell him off for it but it feels damn good. Better when he replaces his mouth on her breast with one hand, and moves his head down between her thighs, just where she likes him. His tongue sweeps over her, through her, into her, hot and wet and <em>good,</em> and she’s trembling, bucking her hips up into him in search of more friction. </p><p>He moves up to lick and suck over her clit, and that’s even better, but it’s still not quite- Riza scrabbles for the hand at her breast. Grabs it, shoves it back down. He laughs against her cunt, and she’s never loved the sound of it more than when it’s shooting through her, when he’s using both hands to push her thighs as wide as they’ll go, stretching her open for him as he works over her. </p><p>She whines as the tension grows hotter, brighter. She grabs at her own breast, pinching one nipple harder than he’d dare, bucking up in a panting rhythm as the heat in her cunt grows, grows. “There. There, don’t stop. Oh god right there I’m-”</p><p>His mouth never pauses in it’s rhythm on her clit, but he takes one hand away and slides two fingers deep into her just before she reaches the edge, rubbing upward mercilessly against her, and she comes like a star burst between her legs. </p><p>He eases his fingers out slowly as she pants for breath, licking gently at her until she pushes his head away, laughing. He starts to move up alongside her, and she grabs one of his legs between hers and rolls them, turning him onto his back beneath her in one smooth movement, smearing a wet streak along his thigh as she goes. </p><p>“Roy.”</p>
<hr/><p>His name on her lips makes him dizzy almost as much as the feel of her, wet and panting above him, hair falling around them both. His hands move restlessly on her legs, but he can do nothing else but stare as she reaches out, strokes his face. She leans in and kisses him again, rutting against his leg. Her hand creeps down to grasp him, stroking between their slick bodies, and he gasps into her mouth. </p><p>“Riza. Please.” </p><p>She smiles, wide and giddy, and leans back. She backs off of him, leans down and takes him in her mouth in one long, maddening slide. She swirls her tongue around his cock for just a moment before sliding her mouth back up, licking as she goes, slow and luxurious, like she just wanted to get a taste of him. She pauses an extra moment at the head, sucking just hard enough to make him twitch and gasp again, before pulling off and licking her lips. She grins up at him, his unbelievable, glorious Riza. </p><p>“Yeah,” she says, straddling his hips again in one easy motion, one hand still on him as a guide. “Alright.” She pushes down. </p><p>The heat of her is overwhelming, more so for the way she moans, leans down against his chest and grinds, pushing him as deep as he’ll go. He mouths at her shoulder, sucks a mark into the skin of that little divot, feels her fingers dig hard into his biceps hard enough to bruise. </p><p>“God. Roy.” </p><p>“Yeah,” he agrees. He bends his knees, plants his feet and fucks up into her the best way he knows how, until she’s breathless, head pressed into the crook of his neck, her breath a searing heat against his chest. One hand sweeps over her back, over and over, while the other shoves between their bodies, rubbing at her clit. He’s so close, tension coiling in his gut, <em>almost almost almost- </em>she lifts her head and pulls him into a desperate kiss. He feels her tip over the edge, clenching around him, right as she reaches one hand back, and rakes her nails against the soft underside of his thigh. Then he’s gone.</p>
<hr/><p>They come down slowly, bodies sticky with sweat in the cooling air of the desert night. Riza lets him hold her for a few minutes, content to let him stroke his hands idly against her back, for once neither of them fretting about the scars or tattoos, just basking in the gentle glow of being like this, skin to skin. Eventually she pulls off of him, and is deeply grateful that a General’s quarters merit their own en suite as she uses the toilet, then gathers a damp cloth to wipe them both down. </p><p>She perches on the bed beside him when she returns, stroking a hand through his sweat-damp hair, admiring his body, yes, <em>yes,</em> but also just relishing in getting to<em> look at him, </em>in a way she is never able to. Never let herself be able to, even when they’ve been alone before. He looks so peaceful, she thinks, staring up at her like she’s made of something worth living for. And well. Doesn’t she think the same of him, after all? </p><p>“I love you,” he says again. He reaches out and catches her hand. She just smiles, jaw working. “You don’t have to say anything.” </p><p>She shakes her head. “It isn’t that.” She leans down, resting her forehead against the ball of his shoulder, like a prayer. Or maybe it’s a confession. “Of course I do too, Roy. I- I don’t remember who I was before I loved you.” </p><p>She hears his breath catch, then the hand in hers squeezes tightly. “Stay,” he asks her. She sighs against him. </p><p>“I shouldn’t. I know it’s mostly our friends here, but if the wrong person found out…” </p><p>He nudges at her head with his shoulder until she lifts it and looks up at him. There’s an easy smile on his face, though his eyes look suspiciously wet. “You know as well as I do that none of them will be getting an early start tomorrow. You’ll be the first person awake in this building, I guarantee it.” His expression grows a bit softer, more serious. “Stay, Riza. Just for tonight.” </p><p><em>It won’t be, </em>she doesn’t say. If she lets herself have this, have <em>him, </em>she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to sleeping alone. But well, she’s Riza Hawkeye. She adjusts. Maybe it will be worth it. He raises their clasped hands to his mouth, kisses her knuckles, another bright spark, his expression so stupidly hopeful it’s like she’s falling for him all over again. </p><p>
  “Alright,” she agrees, settling back in beside him. “But no complaining when I wake you up at dawn.”
</p><p>
 He laughs, drawing her closer, their limbs entwining on the too-small dormitory bed; a complete circuit, humming gently, heartbeat to heartbeat. For the first time since she can remember, Riza falls asleep smiling.
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There you have it! Thanks so.much for reading, and please let me know what you think! Kudos and comments always the most appreciated, even if I am terrible about replying.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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